CHAPTER 12
Kari and I looked at each other. "Grant came back,” I said. "Hide.”
She shook her head. "That’s Michael. You're the one who needs to hide." She looked toward the sound. "At least I think that’s Michael.”
We both stood up. Neither of us answered him.
A bubble of panic pushed against my chest. What were we supposed to do when neither of us knew who was in the house? "Why don't you ever lock your front door?” I asked.
"You used it last," she said. "You didn’t lock it either.”
"Kari?” the voice came again, this time closer. "Are you home?”
"Michael,” we both said at once.
“Just a second!" she called back, which she shouldn't have done because then footsteps headed in our direction.
I didn’t have much time. I looked around, trying to remember which doorways led where. Could I make it out of the sliding glass door? No. Would he hear my footsteps if I ran across the tile? Kari whispered, “Hide! Hide!” while shaking her hands.
I ducked behind the couch, then heard him come into the room. From my place on the floor, I saw a pair of brown loafers. No discernible socks.
"Kari,” he said, turning the word into an exclamation of happiness. I could picture him, even though I couldn't see him. I'd seen his soap opera—he played a brooding bad boy whose dark bangs constantly draped over one eye. That way he could brush his hair away every five minutes and shoot dramatic, sizzling looks at the camera.
Kari's black shoes joined his on the floor. I could tell they were hugging. "Hey, sweetie.”
"I love what you've done to the place,” he said. "A floral shop motif.”
"Thanks again for the flowers.”
Silence. I could tell they were kissing.
Get him out of here, I thought. Take him by the hand and lead him anywhere else.
Although Kari and I look like twins, apparently we don’t have that psychic twin connection. After another minute of kissing, Kari said, "So what brings you here?”
"I had to see the most beautiful girl in the world.”
More giggling from Kari. Probably more kissing too.
"So what’s with the paper on the couch?” Michael asked.
Kari at last seemed to remember I was in the room because she said, "Oh, it's nothing. Just a book. Let’s go outside.”
"A book?” Michael asked. "Are you writing one?" Instead of leaving, Michael walked over to the couch. I held my breath and tried to shrink into the floor tile. I heard the shuffling of paper. "What kind of book is this?”
"A bad one. Lorna Beck is bashing me.”
"You're kidding.” He sat down. The couch jiggled. "Can she do that legally?"
The couch jiggled again and I knew Kari had joined him. “My lawyer is trying to stop her.” She let out an aggravated sigh. "See, this is the problem with hiring poor people to work for you: They don't care if you sue them. What do they have to lose? Lorna drives a Kia, for heaven’s sake. Like I’d want that in a settlement."
I heard more shuffling of paper. Michael said, "Does she mention me?”
"Yeah. She says I keep driving you away with my temper."
He let out a scoffing grunt. "And I always thought it was the way you keep flirting with other guys."
"Exactly," Kari said. "Lorna doesn’t know what she's talking about."
"I want to read it," he said, and the only sound for a while was papers turning, unless you count the sound of my muscles hardening into knots as I tried not to move or breathe loudly.
Finally Kari said, "I'm thirsty. Can you grab me some orange juice and I’ll keep searching through the pages?"
"Sure thing.” He stood and his shoes went toward the kitchen. Kari fluttered a hand over the back of the couch, as though I might not have realized Michael had left. I slipped off my shoes so they wouldn't clomp against the tile and tiptoed to what I thought was a way out of the room—but that turned out to be just an alcove with a window seat. Kari’s guitar lay on top of composition paper. I turned around to leave, but then heard Michael's footsteps coming back to the couch.
So I pressed myself against the wall. I was trapped, but at least not visible. Michael could see the wall opposite me, but not where I stood.
Which was good news, until I realized that a huge mirror hung across from me. I could see the two of them framed perfectly: Michael pushing paper over to give himself a place to sit down. Kari taking the drink of orange juice from him.
I might have made a noise at that point. Maybe said something very un-role-modelish. Michael looked over. His eyes connected with mine through the mirror. I froze with dread. I’d been caught. Should I say something or let Kari come up with an explanation?
But Michael’s gaze brushed past me and returned to Kari. "I like your new portrait in your writing nook."
Kari looked over at me then and was a lot less thrilled by the new portrait in her writing nook. She actually glared at me as though I’d done it on purpose. As though I'd said to myself, "Why leave when I could stand here and pretend to be a picture of Kari instead?"
But I did stand there, holding the same pose in case Michael glanced over at the mirror again. It was a good five minutes before Michael read the pages that Lorna had written about him and Kari could convince him that they needed to go outside to check on the pool.
I didn’t wait to put my shoes back on after that. I rushed out of the room, fled down the hallway, and didn't stop running until I reached Kari’s front gate. I called my driver to come get me, but my heart didn't stop pounding until I made it to Maren’s house.
My Double Life Page 20
